


Another way.

by zianourry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, just a wip, mentioned zayn/ofc, not sure what will happen, you'll find out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:57:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zianourry/pseuds/zianourry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When five boys find an add online they decide to apply and see where they land.</p><p>Is your life different from what you expected? Does no one understand you and have you lost your motive to live? Let us help you!<br/>Camp Another way,<br/>makes it possible to discover yourself and for you to make new friends. Bond with your teammates and see if you can get through the challenges set up by our staff. Cooperation and trust is everything when you face your future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another way.

Louis:

He had enough of it, the constant yelling, the crying and the smashed red crockery set. His head hurt, from the sounds and the tears he tried to keep at bay. He could hear his sisters crying in the other room and how they whispered to each other, seeking comfort. Normally he would go to them, wrap his arms around the youngest and try to tell a fairytale, a life of happiness and comfort. Today he didn’t, or more important, he couldn’t. The walls he’d built were crashing and he didn’t know what to do anymore. He longed for what this house once was, a safe haven. Now he didn’t even know if he could still call it his home. He knew that if he stepped inside the other room that he would crash, without the certitude that he would ever get back up again. _The oldest_ , he kept reminding himself. He is the oldest, he is the one that should protect those girls and he couldn’t break down in front of them. He needed to be strong. Another crash with another screamed accusation.

He sighed, shook his head and walked towards his computer, plugging his earphones in. Music was an escape, an escape from this so called ‘’happy family.’’ He laughed bitterly, they had never been a perfect family, they just knew how to keep up the images for the rest of the town. Shutting out the world he started browsing, maybe he would find something today.

 

Liam:

He hadn’t been himself for a long time, maybe he had never known himself. It was what bullying did to you. First you’ll be scared, dismayed and you’ll keep asking yourself what you did wrong, how you could change yourself so they would like you. Then you’ll get angry, defensive. What gave them the right to hurt you like that, physical as well as emotional. Once the militancy wore off it went from bad to even worse. You started to accept it, believe that they knew you, that they were speaking the truth. That is where you hit the bottom of the ocean and you got lost inside the dark corners of your own mind. A never ending labyrinth of whispers, shadows and pinches.

Once his parents found out what happened inside the school gates, they had taken immediate action. The principal was called, teachers were informed and the parents of the bullies got called. It only made it worse, instead of blatant comments that were stopped by teachers, they started whispering. Gossip that carried through to school halls like a hum and appeared in scrabbled lines onto the toilet stalls. At first they would wait for him in the corners where he walked past while going home, once his dad found him covering up a bruise when he stepped into the room, he got introduced into the world of boxing. It had made him physically stronger and he could defend himself. But walls inside your head to protect your emotions and self-esteem were harder to train and built.  
He cared about others, his apologies and compliments were sincere and his words were spoken carefully. He still couldn’t grasp why they would bully him, they could have been friends or at least acquaintances. Empty eyes stared at the ceiling for a while until patterns started swirling on the ceiling. With an inaudible sigh, he pulled his laptop on his lap, sitting up against the headboard of the bed. Maybe he could make a friend on tumblr today.

 

Harry:

He was done with it, the routine of his life. It felt like he was stuck in his own groundhog day. Every day he got the same greetings, he conversed with the same people and saw the same objects. He was sick of baking the same raspberry pie over and over and over again. His mother waved to him every morning, shouting a be careful through the window when he walked outside with his usual red lunchbox. Walking down the same street towards the same bakery, day in, day out. He knew exactly what every customer was going to ask and with whom he could joke around with and which customers needed to be handled carefully. He’d grown up in this town, he knew every corner and every street like he knew his own house. Once it had been comforting but as he grew older it started to suffocate him. The familiarity and boredom chasing him. He laughed softly, maybe his body started reacting to the lack of adrenalin.  
He walked back from his shift with dragging feet, knowing that he would end up on the internet again, hidden inside his room behind a lit screen. Sometimes he wondered why he didn’t do something to change this all, but once he tried to, his conscious started to make a list of all the reasons why he shouldn’t do it. Which ended with him doing nothing. He swung the red front door open and stepped inside. He was astonished when he didn’t hear the cheery hello from his mom. Looking inside the house he realized that she wasn’t home. He shrugged, maybe something had changed. He walked upstairs and sat cross-legged in his chair. The screen lit up when he pushed the on button.  
  
Niall:  
  
The smile felt fake, artificial. His friends laughed at every joke but you could sense how they were forced. They had been friends for a long time, but a half a year ago it became different. The weekly meetings died down to once a month and the once so cheery table during their lunch became quiet. He didn’t know what happened, where it went wrong. But now he felt so alone and scared and mostly alone. He was used to the group around him, the comfort of being listened to and being the listener.  
He stayed cooped up inside his room after school, because he wasn’t really sure anymore what he should or could do. His guitar became his escape, but an instrument doesn’t talk back and sometimes he needed to hear another voice. The town where he lived wasn’t big and he had always been happy with that, everyone was so close. But now he understood the disadvantages. Everyone knew who were friends, his once so close knit group weas famous. Friends that understood each other without a single word spoken. Only once it started falling apart they didn't bother to talk to him and he realized how distant he was from the rest of the students. They knew he belonged to them and therefore they didn’t try to get to know him. That is how ended up alone, lonelier than he thought was possible. He sighed deeply and strummed the last notes of the song he was teaching himself to play. Red, hold me now.  
His eyes darted towards his computer, maybe killing the time by playing would help. Maybe it would be evening sooner than he could imagine. Nothing was wrong with fooling yourself when it came to time. He quickly stood up and sat on a chair, the computer started buzzing to life when he pushed the on button.  
  
Zayn:  
  
He had lost his touch when he lost her. The eyes, that once had made him paint the stars like they looked on a clear night, disappeared. The soft touches that felt like silk that once had made him caress his canvas with beautiful strokes of _bluegreenred_. Now those touches were gone and his hand had lost its gracefulness, strokes awkward and foreign. After a while he got lost, he couldn’t express himself anymore, emotions stuck inside his head like a whirlwind.  
She had been his muse from the moment he’d seen her, her eyes telling stories and showing him how to put those in colours on a canvas. But then she packed her suitcase and went away with someone else and once he actually found the courage to pick up a brush again he’d realized that nothing happened and a red line just stayed a red line. His friends had tried to help him, but he couldn’t be without painting and he slowly hid himself inside his own mind. Trying to block the outside, in the hope that he could protect himself from whatever that could destroy him even more. Not realizing that the only one that destroyed him, was his own mind.  
He looked at the painting hanging of his wall, the image was perfect. It looked like her hair was swimming around her, draped softly across her shoulder. With a hurt expression he looked away, facing his laptop again. The world of anonymous faces and written letters.


End file.
